Al
by planet p
Summary: Who enjoys Christmas parties anyway? Alternate ending added. Eames/Goren
1. Chapter 1

**Al** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Law and _Order or any of its characters.

A _Law & Order: Criminal Intent_ fanfiction.

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Eames bit her lip. She wanted to kiss him, she thought, it would be nice - trouble was, he hadn't even noticed her. She was this side of the room, he was that side, all the way away over there, already talking with someone.

She pushed her way through the crowd of partygoers, far too unsteady.

"Eames-! Alex. It's, ah, Al-" Gorren said, but she cut him off.

"I think I'm going to be sick." She swayed dangerously.

Gorren frowned, took a hold of her before she collapsed. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to- go. I have to go." He steered her in the direction of the toilet and she was sick almost before she got to the sink.

She wondered if people were sick often around him. It was in his look: concerned, but, managing. Almost annoyed, she thought. "I'm really sorry," she began to apologise, in between being sick.

"That's fine," he told her, detached, other things on his mind.

She was sick again.

oooo

He took her outside. Christmas parties could be like that. Pathetic, he thought. Perhaps that was not quite the word. "The air should help," he conceded.

Eames shivered in the renewed cold. It _was_ the middle of winter.

"You're right," he said, although she hadn't yet spoken.

She hunched over against the cold, desperately pale and feeling ill.

He touched her hand for a fleeting moment. "I'll drive you home."

She blinked and gazed up at him.

He had walked ahead and turned back to address her.

"You don't-"

"It'll make me feel better."

She frowned.

"In any case," he considered, and left the remainder of the thought unsaid.

Eames didn't press the matter. She supposed there were very few things that could serve to make him feel better. Ease his mind, yes. But to make him feel better…

oooo

He didn't speak in the car, and she did not interrupt the silence. She wanted to get out of the car and throw up and not necessarily in that order.

oooo

He walked with her to her door, which she thought was nice, but probably only out of concern that she might slip and crack her skull open or some such. She wasn't exactly steady on her feet quite yet, and the snow and wet could get slippery.

He stood and watched her open the door.

"You don't- I couldn't offer you a coffee, could I?"

He frowned.

She rubbed her arms. "It's just that-"

He cut her off. "That would be great."

She nodded.

oooo

He ended up making the coffee. She almost said something, but it was probably for the best. It would be a stupid thing if she scolded herself.

The feeling of sickness had not gone away, but it had eased. Or was that that she was keeping a better handle on it now that she had gotten accustomed to the feeling?

She took the mug offered and let it warm her hands. As it was, it was barely more than half full.

oooo

"I didn't know what to say to him," she said quite without prompting or warning.

"Anything at all, Al."

It would never seem that way in that moment, she thought. She was rather a worry wort tonight, she thought.

She ran to the sink and was sick again, but she suspected it was less due to the alcohol.

"You'll be fine," he told her at her back.

She wished he would cheer up. It was Christmas Eve.

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TBC?


	2. Chapter 2

**Al** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Law and Order: Criminal Intent_ or any of its characters.

**Author's Note** This is an alternate ending piece, though it recounts the previous chapter, just with a different/extended ending. I really wanted to write something more to this piece, but I just couldn't think what, so I'm sorry to all of those people who left reviews – they were really really nice, thank you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eames bit her lip. She wanted to kiss him, she thought, it would be nice - trouble was, he hadn't even noticed her. She was this side of the room, he was that side, all the way away over there, already talking with someone.

She pushed her way through the crowd of partygoers, far too unsteady.

"Eames-! Alex. It's, ah, Al-" Gorren said, but she cut him off.

"I think I'm going to be sick." She swayed dangerously.

Gorren frowned, took a hold of her before she collapsed. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to- go. I have to go." He steered her in the direction of the toilet and she was sick almost before she got to the sink.

She wondered if people were sick often around him. It was in his look: concerned, but, managing. Almost annoyed, she thought. "I'm really sorry," she began to apologise, in between being sick.

"That's fine," he told her, detached, other things on his mind.

She was sick again.

oooo

He took her outside. Christmas parties could be like that. Pathetic, he thought. Perhaps that was not quite the word. "The air should help," he conceded.

Eames shivered in the renewed cold. It _was_ the middle of winter.

"You're right," he said, although she hadn't yet spoken.

She hunched over against the cold, desperately pale and feeling ill.

He touched her hand for a fleeting moment. "I'll drive you home."

She blinked and gazed up at him.

He had walked ahead and turned back to address her.

"You don't-"

"It'll make me feel better."

She frowned.

"In any case," he considered, and left the remainder of the thought unsaid.

Eames didn't press the matter. She supposed there were very few things that could serve to make him feel better. Ease his mind, yes. But to make him feel better…

oooo

He didn't speak in the car, and she did not interrupt the silence. She wanted to get out of the car and throw up and not necessarily in that order.

oooo

He walked with her to her door, which she thought was nice, but probably only out of concern that she might slip and crack her skull open or some such. She wasn't exactly steady on her feet quite yet, and the snow and wet could get slippery.

He stood and watched her open the door.

"You don't- I couldn't offer you a coffee, could I?"

He frowned.

She rubbed her arms. "It's just that-"

He cut her off. "That would be great."

She nodded.

oooo

He ended up making the coffee. She almost said something, but it was probably for the best. It would be a stupid thing if she scolded herself.

The feeling of sickness had not gone away, but it had eased. Or was that that she was keeping a better handle on it now that she had gotten accustomed to the feeling?

She took the mug offered and let it warm her hands. As it was, it was barely more than half full.

oooo

"I didn't know what to say to him," she said quite without prompting or warning.

"Anything at all, Al."

It would never seem that way in that moment, she thought. She was rather a worry wort tonight, she thought.

She ran to the sink and was sick again, but she suspected it was less due to the alcohol.

"You'll be fine," he told her at her back.

She wished he would cheer up. It was Christmas Eve.

oooo

She opened her eyes to a bright day. She sat and noticed him sitting beside her on the bed, just watching the wall.

He grimaced without looking. "How do you feel?"

"It's like you said, fine." She frowned. "You needn't have stayed."

"No." He turned to look at her now. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she said awkwardly.

He stood. "It's good that you're feeling better."

She smiled fleetingly. She slipped off the bed and moved around to stand at his side. "I'll see you out."

oooo

They walked in silence to the door. She didn't offer another coffee. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She was still wearing that glittery Christmas tree pin.

"Thank you," she said at the door, and touched his hand, so that he knew that she was speaking to him.

She thought that he might say something, but he must have thought better.

She unlocked the door and paused, turned back to face him. "Really, thank you."

He grimaced. It wasn't a smile really.

She lifted herself up on tiptoes and kissed him. She hadn't meant to, not exactly, not like that.

She pulled herself away and backed into the wall.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she felt it too.

"It's nothing," he said.

She nodded mutely and stepped away from the wall to pass him. She really should have slept in.

oooo

He took her left hand as she was passing, and she paused and waited, and then she turned.

He took up her right hand also so that he was holding both of her hands in his own.

He frowned and placed a quick kiss on her lips.

She didn't close her eyes. She stood there, not moving, and watched.

He pulled back and dropped her left hand. It fell limp at her side.

She brought his right hand up to her mouth and placed a kiss in his palm.

oooo

She walked to the kitchen, hoisted herself up onto the kitchen table. She sat there, awkward for some moments, and then she pulled him down to her and kissed him.

She pulled him up against her, both fully clothed, but her without shoes, and he held her whilst they kissed.

oooo

Her hands tugged at him, pulled him to her. They wanted more.

The kissing was careful. She was afraid that he might leave her alone, that she might frighten him.

Her hands dipped down into his pants before her head could stop them.

The kissing stopped. It was just breathing now. She closed her eyes.

He took her hands, after some moments, and retrieved them from out of there.

She didn't dare open her eyes until he had pulled her to him and off the table and carried her out of the kitchen and down the hall.

oooo

He placed her on the bed.

oooo

She watched the ceiling, unsure what to feel. It did feel… good, just not fantastic.

oooo

Afterwards, she lay there and closed her eyes.

He left because he could pretend that she was asleep, and she didn't try to stop him.

oooo

She listened to _Katya and the Nutcracker_ over the stereo, curled up on the sofa, and read Harry Potter.

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She took the subway to music classes Boxing Day afternoon. She played the clarinet. She was no great wonder.

The supermarket was bright and shiny and hummed. She walked through the aisles with her clarinet case and took the subway home again.

oooo

She got his Christmas card in the mail that third day. She placed it in the back of a paperback novel in her bookshelf.

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Vacation's end, work was as manic as ever. He didn't mention it, so neither did she. It hardly seemed to matter at all.

Alone in the elevator together, she asked him if he had read any Harry Potter.

She remembered to thank him for the card, and she was so sorry she hadn't thought to send him one, and she would look, perhaps they had a sorry-for-not-sending-a-Christmas-card card.


End file.
